“You taught him to beg.”
“He looks so cute standing on his hind legs.”
He rolled his eyes. “I bet you say that about all the guys.”
She laughed and led him by the hand through a well-ordered laundry room. “Particularly you.” She opened a door and gestured to the cavernous garage with a flourish. “Ta da! Garage.”
Bram shuffled past her, groping the wall in search of a light switch. He flipped one, and a vent fan rumbled to life.
“Other switch.”
“I figured that out,” he grumbled as a series of florescent lights illuminated overhead.
Shelves lined the perimeter, mostly empty except for a few plastic storage containers. The sealed concrete floor was coated with a layer of dust but otherwise unmarred. He stepped into the garage and turned in a slow circle.
“You don’t use it?”
“Only when the weather’s really bad.”
“Why not?”
She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I like to hop in the car and go.”
“Yeah, I heard that about you.”
Lynne laughed and gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Funny guy.” She reached for the light switch. “Meet with your approval?”
He nodded as he turned another slow circle. “I could work here.”
A puzzled frown bisected her beautiful blue eyes. “Work here?”
“It’s big enough, even if we both park in here. I’d put up some sheeting plastic or a tarp to cut down on the sawdust.”
“Here?”
He squinted at the ductwork. “Is it heated?”
“You want to move here?”
He wet his parched lips. “I could, if you want me to,” he said quietly. “I mean, how hard could it be to live in a big fancy house? You’ve even got one of them ce-ment ponds in the back. You could cook me pot roast in your fancy kitchen—”
“You don’t want to move here.”
He caught her hand, bringing it to his lips and peering at her from under his lashes. “I wanna be wherever you’re going to be.”
“So you’d do that? You’d pack up and move from the foothills of the Ozarks to the concrete canyons?”
“If you want me.”
Her smile came slow but sure. “I should take you up on that, just to make you pay for making hollow promises.”
“I promise you I mean it.”
“I’d never ask you to move here.” She blinked at the buzzing florescent lights. “The house is too big. It’s drafty too. The pool is a money pit. I think I dipped my toes in two times last summer. But I do love my kitchen, and the bathtub in the master suite is pretty nice. Not as nice and deep as the claw foot.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes bright and shining when they met his gaze. “I love you for wanting to check out my garage, though. Thank you.”
Bram wrapped his arms around her, lifting her from the step and smiling as she slid down his chest. He tucked her hair behind her ear, his knuckles grazing the silken skin of her cheek. “Just so you know, you can run, but I’m coming after you.”
She whispered, “Duly noted.”
“I’m serious. I’ll go anywhere you want. Don’t try to take off without me. I’ll chase you down, even if it kills me. I’m not as young as I used to be.”
“Older, wiser…certainly no spring chicken.”
He planted a sound kiss on her lips then nudged her toward the step. “Now show me this tub of yours. I’m gonna need to relax a little before you truss me up like a prize hog.”
She pulled him into the house, her eyes dancing with delight. “Do the pig call thingy.”
“Hog call,” he corrected. “And no.”
“Come on.”
Bram shook his head stubbornly but allowed her to pull him toward the staircase. “Nope. I agreed to wear a monkey suit, but I’m not performing.”
She raised an eyebrow as he slung his duffel bag over his shoulder then hefted her suitcase with a grunt. “Not performing at all?”
He smiled. “Well, maybe a little, but I have better ways of keeping you entertained than shouting ‘Woo Pig, Sooie!’”
Lynne grinned, pressed a kiss to his lips, and dashed up the steps. “Come on, country boy. Let me show you how we do things ’round here.”
THE END
Dear Readers,
I hope you enjoyed reading Spring Chickens. An author, like a mother, is not supposed to have favorites, but I have to admit this story is one of mine. I love ‘second chance at love’ stories, and I don’t think there were two people more deserving of a happily ever after than Lynne and Bram.
Spring Chickens is what the publishing world would consider an unconventional romance. The hero and heroine are no longer in their twenties or early thirties. The hero isn’t a rich industrialist or Hollywood star. The heroine isn’t spunky and sure of herself. It’s the story of real(ish) people dealing with the realities of modern love.
The need to love and be love doesn’t diminish as we grow older, plumper, and grayer. It endures until the day we die. I believe that, like hope, love springs eternal.
These are the stories I’ve always wanted to tell—extraordinary romance for ordinary people. Heroes and heroines living lives like yours and mine. If you like the same kind of stories I do, I hope you’ll give some of my other titles a try.
Here’s to a not-so-perfect love!
Margaret
About Margaret Ethridge
By day, Margaret Ethridge is buried in spreadsheets. At night she pens tales of people tangling up the sheets. The product of a charming rogue and a shameless flirt, you only have to scratch the surface of this mild-mannered married lady to find a naughty streak a mile wide.
Margaret pens tales of true-to-life women’s fiction, contemporary romance, and has been known to dabble a bit in the paranormal. She also writes steamy erotic romance under the pen name Maggie Wells.
You can find her online at: www.margaretethridge.com
Twitter
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Other Books by Margaret Ethridge
Paramour
Contentment
Commitment
Inamorata
Long Distance Love
Short Stories:
‘A String of Pearls’ in the TMP Men In Uniform Anthology
CRESCENT MOON
Legend After Dark
Janet Eaves
She is dangerous, deadly and broken.
He has only two choices: Fix her. Or kill her.
****
The waxing crescent moon
Trails the sun across the sky
Bleached by blinding rays
She’s naked to the eye
Once the sun sets west
Luna suddenly rears
A silver sliver at best
Yet darkness disappears
PROLOGUE
“Move and you die.”
Polly Chapman remained as still as possible, her mind working frantically for an escape that wouldn’t further rile the Powers That Be. For three months she’d followed this man—against orders—waiting impatiently for red tape to be resolved so she’d get the go-ahead to nail his sorry ass to the wall. It didn’t come too late, it never came at all, and he’d done the unthinkable before she could save the innocent.
The mess she was in now was her own fault. She was supposed to have waited for backup, kept hidden until Ballard or Augustine arrived to take the perp down. She’d been given direct orders to keep her hands off him—to let local law enforcement collar him. Now, she not only lost the advantage of surprise, she might very well lose her life to some sorry son of a bitch she could break into tiny pieces if allowed.
“Who else is out there?”
A line of heat met her throat where he held the knife. She licked her lips, refusing to whimper as heat turned to pain. “My backup,” she bluffed, knowing the sliver of light from the moon wouldn’t be enough to overpower the sinister shadows surrounding them.
If she
couldn’t see anything, then neither could he.
“How many?”
Inch by careful inch Polly slid her hand across her stomach until her fingertips reached the small Taser tucked into her black slacks, but lost concentration when he ground his pelvis against her bottom.
“Don’t fuck with me, sister.”
Feted breath caressed her cheek making her gag. As far as she could tell, he hadn’t detected her movements, but was referring to her bluff. She fought taking a deep breath, certain she’d vomit from the dumpster-smell of his rotting teeth. Taking short, sharp breaths through her mouth, she nearly cried in triumph when she grasped the stun-gun on her second attempt.
“Move that hand and I’ll take it off.”
Indecision was a new and unwelcome problem. She remained still, regret formulating with the certainty that she wouldn’t make it out of this alive if she followed orders. Fury simmered at the restrictions she’d been made to endure regarding this man. He was refuse, sludge, and expendable as far as she was concerned, more so now than before, but she’d been forced to back off.
She had her orders—get counseling and leave Karl to others. To take him down now would spotlight her disobedience. To obey could, and most certainly would, cost her life—a condition she’d never given a second’s thought to before. How could she let go of life when she hadn’t even lived it yet? She’d given Uncle Sam everything. Twice over. And he’d paid her back by letting the very people she’d sworn to protect die.
She didn’t want to die, too. Not by this man’s hands. There was so much she’d put off in her climb up the Bureau’s ladder—a home of her own instead of an apartment where she couldn’t even change the wall’s color if she wanted to. She really wanted a family, though the thought terrified her. Starting with a man she could adore and one who would think of her as the bees knees, maybe even a couple of kids, and with them a dog or two.
Perhaps, somehow, she could even regain her soul.
“What’s that sound?”
Polly didn’t know what he was talking about, but wasn’t about to give up what might be her only opportunity to work him. “Probably my back-up. Let me go and you’ve got a chance. Kill me and they will roast you in the chair, if they don’t kill you instantly.”
The perp slightly turned his body, and subsequently her own, from side to side as he searched for whatever it was that had spooked him. Hoping her words scared him, she continued, “I can help you. I know you didn’t mean to hurt Martha. Everybody knows you aren’t that kind of man. If you let me go we can make a judge understand that you are the victim. She made you do it. She didn’t give you any choice.”
Polly closed her mouth, not wanting to overplay her hand, hoping he’d buy her offer. Chances were Wall knew his days were numbered if they got him into a courtroom. He’d brutally abused then murdered his wife and their three children months before when Martha finally tried to escape him. Polly had been her chance for a new life, a new start, a new identity. Only everything had gone wrong before she’d been able to get Martha and those children to safety.
To Legend.
“You shoulda left me alone. I ain’t got no beef with you.”
Polly nodded, relieved he was talking. “You’re right, Karl. I stepped in where I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”
“She done it. She made me hit her. Them brats, too. Hated them. They cried. All they ever did was friggin’ cry.” He ground his engorged manhood against her bottom. “Couldn’t even screw the old-lady without them whining bastard’s interfer’n.”
Polly nodded, hoping if she agreed with everything, he’d drop his guard. “I know. Kids ruin everything.”
A huff of his laughter blew his breath from behind her head, across her cheek. This time her entire body gagged, and he tightened his hold. “You ever had a man, girly? You ever had a real man make you cum? I can, you know. Martha had it so good.”
Fury coincided with revulsion when he licked her face. Without thought, she grasped the Taser and spun, pressing the stun button and grinding it into his groin even as heat sliced into her throat. They went down together, him screaming and slashing with the knife, her pressing electricity into him until she couldn’t keep her eyes open or her arms aloft any longer. She lay there in darkness, feeling the life flow from her body, hearing the strangling coming from her own throat. Strangely, there was no pain. Only regret.
So much regret.
CHAPTER ONE
“Did you rest well?”
Polly started, her heart knocked against her throat. She took several deep breaths, softly, not wanting her hostesses to know they’d scared her. She nodded, keeping her focus on the serene landscape available through the screened window of the Legend’s Landing, Bed & Breakfasts’ back porch. “Fine, Suzie, thank you.”
“Can we get you anything?”
Polly shook her head. “No thanks, Lilly. I’m fine. Please, don’t fuss over me.” In truth, she wasn’t fine and doubted she might ever be fine again, but she couldn’t deal with kindness or anything else right now. She just needed to be left alone.
“We’ll go and leave you to your tea, then. Lil and I are taking Sweet-Pea into town for new clothes and supplies. Can we get you anything?”
Polly shook her head, again, careful not to move her injured neck too much. “No, thank you. Really, I’m fine.”
Seconds ticked by on the large mantel clock sitting on a nearby table. This time she made the effort to turn and face the two women. Lilly massaged her protruding belly. Suzie swayed with her young son held securely in her arms. Sympathy saddened their eyes. Even Suzie’s infant son, Peter, seemed to be frowning at her, and it was more than she could take. “Please. Go.”
“Call my cell if you need anything,” Suzie said briskly, nearly pushing Lilly back into the house as she departed. Polly turned back to watch the morning unfold through the thick stand of pines and cypress trees that led to the large lake at the back of Suzie’s property.
Suzie Matthews and Lilly Hood had taken it upon themselves to become her new best friends and nurse her back to health the day she’d been delivered to her hometown of Legend, Tennessee. As a lifetime resident of Legend and proprietress of Legend’s Landing, Bed & Breakfast, Suzie was a prominent member of the community, along with her new husband, Brad. Upon Polly’s arrival in Legend, the Matthews showered kindness on her, even moving their baby into their own bedroom so she could have the only other ground floor room available at the B&B.
Lilly, on the other hand, was fairly new to Legend, Polly knew, because she had been the one responsible for sending her to safety the previous fall, in an effort to give her a new start in life. She’d taken advantage of the opportunity and had not only started a new and thriving business, she’d fallen in love with and married Polly’s cousin—and Legend’s ‘Golden Boy’—Jim Hood, and was now well into her second trimester of pregnancy.
Both women meant well, there was no doubt about that. But as much as she was forced into dependency on others right now, she hated it, and they were getting on her nerves. Suzie was always cooking, trying every recipe known to man to get her to eat more, but aromas of nearly every venue made her want to vomit.
And Lilly. The woman was sweet, kind, and determined to wait on her hand and foot. Polly was certain Lilly’s efforts were out of gratitude, but as far as she was concerned, Lilly didn’t owe her a thing. Except maybe a little peace.
She sighed in defeat, knowing she couldn’t say a word to Lilly. It would be rude to tell the deliriously happy woman to get lost, when she’d not only handed her business over to her assistant so she could play nursemaid, but was all but ignoring her new and adoring husband. Jim, of course, being the nice guy he was, wouldn’t say a word. And if Polly knew anything about anyone, she knew Jim. They’d been best friends as well as first cousins as little kids, and she had always been the darkness, a naughty little snot, to his light. Jim could have mastered sainthood even as a child.
Polly sat her tea on th
e frosted-glass-topped table before tentatively touching her face. She ran a finger over the puckered, formerly stitched skin covering her lips, her right temple, her left jaw line, and finally her neck. All in all she’d had thirty-eight stitches to her face and neck, and another thirty-nine covering her arms and chest. She still hurt horribly in the hip and tailbone areas, and had lost a couple of layers of skin down her left leg that now looked as if the area was a healed burn, but the discolorations were waning.
Still, she knew she’d go through life as a brutally disfigured woman. The chances for an adoring husband and children were much less likely now that she’d finally realized how much she wanted them.
“How are you this morning?”
Startled, Polly yelped as she hit the toggle that spun her wheelchair around.
He approached quickly, his hand out towards her, and all she could do was sit and stare as the sound died in her throat. Fleeting horror crossed his expression when he stopped before her. He placed his hands in his pant pockets. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Polly licked her lips and waited, unable to respond. He was magnificent. And young. Curly white-blonde hair framed a tanned, boyishly handsome face, only made masculine by its square cut jaw. She studied his eyes, a deep blue-green, framed, surprisingly, by thick, nearly black, lashes. Even his nose, as perfectly straight as any she’d ever seen, tilted upward at the tip sexily, above lusciously full lips. His tall, lean body, covered in a long sleeve, sky-blue button-down shirt, almost but not quite hid the broadness of his shoulders and his well worked arm muscles. Feeling more than just a little voyeuristic, she continued her perusal past a leather belt, a distinctive bulge, and on to thick muscular thighs stretching the denim of his jeans, and then she exhaled the breath she was unaware of holding.
Unforgettable Heroes II Boxed Set Page 52
